DLTD: Patriot Days
by HateWeasel
Summary: Prequel to Devils Like To Dance. Ciel has returned to London only to find that the war has reached his homeland as well. Stripped of his former title, the Watchdog will have to earn favour with this new council that has replaced the Evil Noblemen and with this new monster-hunting organization he is now a part of. The master has become the servant in a world war, and he isn't happy.
1. Lightning War

The city was on fire. The booming of the bombs being dropped from the blimps that had appeared overhead echoed throughout the city as muffled gunfire could be heard between bursts. Every blast brought death, but this was how London was, now, as the Lightening War had begun in Britain. Was it worth fleeing France for? The boy who looked over the city was debating this, recalling how difficult it was to evade the Nazis occupying Paris in order to make it home again. Now, that home was being bombarded by the same people whom he had been running from—the same people who had forced him to return to Britain after fifty-one years.

How dare they?! The boy's eyes were aflame as they reflected entire blocks being reduced to ash. Everything always began with fire. Lamenting it solved nothing, so as the boy looked up toward the sky, making out the shapes of their attackers, the man with him spoke.

"Oh, dear…" said the man clad in black. "This is a problem. Would it have easier to just hide from the Nazis back in Paris?"

"I don't want to hide." Answered the boy. "I'm no coward, and dwelling on the past solves nothing." His guardian chuckled, grinning at the lad's words.

"So, what will we do?" he questioned.

"Isn't it obvious? We take out those blimps." Said the boy, looking up at the man clad in black with his one eye. To this, the man grinned.

" _Yes, my lord_."

The man then sprung into action, running along the rooftops as his master did his best to keep up. With a mighty leap, he propelled himself into the air and aimed himself at one of the blimps while the other kept running until he found his own target. The boy then launched himself upward into the night sky. Reaching out a hand, he clenched metal in his fist as he latched onto one of the blimps' escort planes. The boy grunted as he scaled the German fighter and made his way to the cockpit, pausing for a moment as he observed his butler leaping from the control center of the blimp while it made its descent.

The air was freezing as it whipped past the lad's ears, making him unable to hear anything but the humming of the plane, but he kept climbing. He managed to get to the cockpit, startling the pilot and causing the plane to fall out of formation when he jerked, yet the boy held fast. The pilot stared into his face with awe, taking in the sight of his scowl. It was his single eye that stood out to him, however, capturing his attention as it glowed crimson. All of the pilot's attention was on that one eye, causing him to freeze where he sat.

All at once, he relaxed, and steadied the plane as voices over the radio frantically tried to communicate with him. The pilot, however, did not answer, and now stared past the boy on his plane as though he wasn't even there. With this, he began to open fire on his own.

The boy grunted while he tried to maintain his hold, but the noise was lost underneath the sound of winds and guns. Looking around, he saw nearby planes spiraling toward the earth from the gun of his ride, but he quickly decided that it was time to depart. Thus, the boy jumped from the plane and began his own descent. Looking up at the plane, he watched as it was struck by its' own allies, sending it crashing, but not until it took out one more enemy. The plane went up in a ball of fire as it crashed into the side of another blimp, ending both of their flights over the skies of London.

"Oof!" grunted boy as he found himself in the arms of the butler. Looking up at the man, he could see the smug look on the man's face.

"You really ought to be more careful, master." The man said. "You almost hurt yourself."

"Must you always find time to patronize me?" questioned the boy in an irritated tone as he tried to wriggle out of the butler's grasp. "We're in the middle of a full-on war on our own turf, Sebastian!"

"My apologies, sir." Sebastian answered as he set the boy down. "But is this really to be considered 'home turf' if you ran away."

"Don't talk to me about this." Snapped the young master, glaring at his butler. "Not a word."

"Apologies, again."

"We need to stop them." The lad stated. "It's going to be quite a bit of work with just the two of u—urk!"

Suddenly, the boy was yanked up into the air by the man as Sebastian dodged threads whipping through the air. Once the young master was aware of what was happening, his feet were placed on the ground yet again, and his eyes focused on the lamp post that they were originally standing next to. A web of wires wraps around it, visible by the light reflecting off of them. In a flash, the source of them pulled, and the post was sliced into pieces.

The demons narrowed their eyes as they witnessed the flicker of a lighter. Cigarette smoke blew into the air as the one puffing it stepped into view. It was another boy—one who looked only around the age of fourteen. He had black hair, steely, grey eyes, and a white dress shirt was neatly tucked into black dress pants, while his black tie was tucked into his grey vest. The boy was dressed really smartly, which contrasted with his haughty, laid-back stance. After adjusting his fingerless gloves, he spoke.

"Good show." He said. "Didn't expect you to actually dodge, but from that display with the blimps, I shouldn't be surprised."

"Who are you?" questioned the young master. "You sound British, so I assume that you're not working with the Nazis."

"On the contrary." The other boy stated. "I don't work with krauts. My name is Walter C. Dornez, butler to the Hellsing family, her Highness' royal order of Protestant Knights." The demon narrowed his eye as the other boy puffed his cigarette once before continuing.

"And _you_ are?" To this, the first boy proudly stood, puffing out his chest slightly as he recited his identity.

"I am Earl Ciel Phantomhive," He declared. "The Queen's Guard Dog. And you will take me to her so I can reclaim my homestead."

* * *

 **A/N: Surprise! I did a thing.**

 **Just a heads up: I will not be updating this as frequently as DLTP. In addition, this won't be as LONG as DLTP. This story will mostly cover all of the good bits from this point in Ciel's life, so we're not going to follow him every single step of the way.**

 **I hope that's not going to be a problem with y'all.**

 **Until the next chapter of whatever thing I update first, my duckies~!**


	2. The Black Knight Laughs

Roughly, the Phantomhive found himself shoved into a room. His hands were bound by some mysterious cuffs that cannot be broken, even with his strength, and his butler was in a similar predicament as he stood next to him. That boy, Walter, and his wires were quite something. The lacerations on their skin haven't completely healed yet! It was just as the other boy had said. He was a monster-hunter, and he was able to fight them.

That said, they didn't fight for long, as Walter's superiors granted Ciel's request to see them upon hearing his name. It would appear that the Watchdog is still famous, even if only amongst this new "council" that the demon-hunting butler was talking about. Despite this, precautions were made. Both demons were searched and their hands were bound behind their backs as they were escorted by armed guards, including Walter, into the chamber where the council was meeting.

Ciel furrowed his brow in confusion at the sight. A Circular table with twelve men seated around it was in the center of the room. The table's middle was hollow, and there was section on the outside of it that opened up so one could get inside. One of the soldiers opened it and gestured for the two demons to enter, but the bluenette was too flabbergasted by the entire situation to really register it. Thus, he was shoved by Walter, who only laughed as the former Earl shot him a glare. It was then that the Phantomhive stepped forward, entering the circle with his butler in tow. Walter then stood at the side of another man—the one who could be assumed to be his master.

The man leaned in to listen to Walter as he whispered in his ear, only to nod and lean back to look at the two demons with his bemused face and emerald eyes. He was the most nonchalant one there, with his dirty blond hair slicked back without neatness and almost excited way of being as the two demons stood in front of him. He must be the head of this "Hellsing" family.

"Welcome, demons." He greeted. "Please excuse us for our rudeness, but we did need to set in place a few precautions, you know."

"Understandable." Answered the Phantomhive. "As long as things go well, they will be unnecessary."

As the bluenette looked around at the faces staring at him, the men in suits pulled back with distressed faces, all but two at that table. On was Hellsing. The other sat next to Hellsing—a stern man with blonde hair swept toward the right, who glared at the demons through his spectacles, only seeming angered by Ciel's arrogance. Yet the Phantomhive smirked at him, and the Hellsing smiled.

"As good humoured as the rumours say you are—HA!" laughed Hellsing, clapping his hands together. "We should introduce ourselves. We are known as 'The Convention of Twelve', or alternatively, 'The Round Table Conference'. We are her majesty's current shadow government, replacing The Evil Noblemen in your absence."

"Oh, so my reputation proceeds me?" questioned the bluenette.

"Of course, but it's mostly stories." The man answered. "But that's what history is, isn't it? Just stories. But don't fret, you are well-documented with the council, I assure you."

"Shouldn't we get on with the proceedings, Arthur?" questioned the man sitting next to him. "How do we even know that this is the real 'Ciel Phantomhive'?"

"Good question." Stated Hellsing. "But, I'm sure we can determine that with just a few of our own. Well, Mister Phantomhive, are you willing to cooperate?"

"Certainly." Baffled, the Phantomhive furrowed his brow at the man, uncertain of what was to happen next.

"Very well." Said the man. "First question: While you were in your prime, who was the head of Scotland Yard?"

"Sir Arthur Randall." Ciel answered, causing Hellsing to nod.

"Who was your fiancée?" he asked, causing the demon to scowl. Regardless, he answered, lowering his gaze slightly.

"Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford." He missed the sight of Hellsing grinning at his answer.

"The name of your dog as a child?"

"Sebastian."

"Your butler?"

"As a child?"

"Sure."

"Tanaka." Answered Ciel. "Later, it would be Sebasitan Michaelis, my accomplice."

"When did you get Sebastian?" This question made the Phantomhive look up. He glared at Hellsing, his eyes launching daggers at his head, yet the man continued to smile.

"The month of February in the year 1896." Ciel stated. "After two months of captivity starting December the fourteenth of 1895, following the murder of the former Earl of Phantomhive, Vincent, and his wife, Rachel."

"And you made a contract with Michaelis?"

"Yes."

"Let's see it." Despite the bluenette's obvious anger, Ciel was left with no choice but to comply. Alas, there was an obstacle.

"My hands." The Phantomhive stated. "I can't reach my eyepatch."

"Not a problem." Said Hellsing. Looking up, he faced the fourteen-year-old butler. "Walter?"

"Right, then." The boy replied, flexing his hand. He swung his arm, sending his wires toward the head of the former Earl, and with another flick of his wrist, the patch was sliced off, leaving the bluenette wide-eyed as the object fell to the ground. The contract was exposed, flashing the council as they gawked at the sight of the purple pentagram. Only one person seemed thrilled about this as he leaned forward to get a better look and smiled widely, and that was Arthur Hellsing.

"So it _is_ true!" he declared. "You _are_ Earl Ciel Phantomhive!"

"How do you know about all of this?!" demanded the bluenette. "Not even her majesty knew!"

"We have our resources." Vaguely answered Hellsing. "What's important is that you are here. So, what can we do for you?"

The others looked at him confusedly at that question, and the bluenette wasn't any better off. This was a madman! What on earth was he after? How did he know what he did?! This man was dangerous.

"I want my home back." The Phantomhive answered, trying to withhold his seething anger and outrage in order to achieve his goal. He was willing to negotiate, but was not keen on discussing his past, here. Not now, not ever.

"That can be arranged." His opponent answered casually, leaning back as the rest of the council gasped at the suggestion. Even his butler looked displeased, but Arthur did not mind it.

"Arthur!" called the man next to him. "You're just going to let a demon take up residency here?! What about your job?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree, Arthur…" said the man to his left. A portly man with a mustache, he had been nervously fidgeting the entire time, unable to speak up.

"Islands, Penwood, let me finish." Said Hellsing, putting his hands together. "While it is a simple task to return the land, I'm not going to give it away without a price."

"You're not suggesting…"

"I am. It's not everyday a man of mister Phantomhive's experience and caliber just waltzes into our midst, so I am going to make full use of this incredible and almost unfathomable opportunity."

"So in other words, I'm going to have to earn it." Butted in the Phantomhive, earning a nod.

"Is that reasonable?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"You will be working for me." Arthur said. "With the H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. organization- _Her Royal England Legions of Legitimate Supernatural and Immortal Night Guard_. Naturally, that entails helping us win this war we're in, much like you did when you took out those planes and blimps."

Ciel paused, thinking for a moment. The hesitation caused his butler to glance at him, but he continued to ponder nonetheless. What would he do? He never planned on fighting. In fact, the entire reason he fled France was to avoid conflict with the Nazis. Now, he had no choice but to go back into the fray, but would he go through with it? Would he become the Queen's Guard Dog yet again and fight in the greatest war known to humanity thus far? Was this really alright?

Truthfully, he hadn't thought things through. He hadn't the slightest idea as to what he was going to do upon his return to England. Come to think of it, the Phantomhive was not satisfied with living peacefully. Even in peacetime, the days just lazily passed without anything occurring. There was nothing to capture his interest. The most exciting moments were evading danger from anti-supernatural organizations and dodging criminals. That thrill is what he lived for. It was what he looked forward to. It made life worth living.

Now, he had the opportunity to have that always. Even after the war, he was guaranteed work. He could have all of the adventure and excitement he could bear, and not only was it sustainable, it was legal. Immortality was boring thus far, so why not try to fix that?

"Master?" questioned the butler, snapping Ciel back to reality.

"What is your answer, mister Phantomhive?" asked Hellsing.

"I'll be happy to take care of you if you don't say anything." Taunted Walter, adjusting his gloves with a smirk. Then, the bluenette looked up.

" _I accept."_ Ciel stated, surprising Sebastian and pleasing Arthur greatly.

"Excellent." Arthur said, flashing his teeth. "You will be permitted to stay at the Hellsing estate until things are put into place. That is, if the council agrees?" he trailed off, looking to his compatriots.

Around the room, men in suits looked to one another with unsure faces, whispering. Yet Phantomhive and Hellsing remained unaffected, instead choosing to stare one another down. Those emerald eyes of Arthur's looked familiar to the bluenette—like a filthy version of something that used to be pure.

"If he should disobey, you will take care of it, won't you Hellsing?" questioned one of the councilmen.

" _Guaranteed."_ Arthur replied, not breaking eye contact with the former Earl. Those eyes of his looked just like the ones he heard about in stories told to him as a child. "I accept all responsibility for these two. Should they stray, they will be hunted down and exterminated, just like any other supernatural freak."

"Then I can be in favour of this."

"As am I."

The councilmen agreed, nodding their heads, but the Hellsing did not look away. His grin only widened as he leaned forward, causing the Phantomhive to scowl in return. Thus occurred one of the most important pieces of the history of Britain's underworld: The return of Ciel Phantomhive.


	3. Regret Kills Slowly

Restoring the manor was a chore that needed to be done before the Phantomhive and his butler did anything else. Fortuntately, it only took Sebastian a few hours. Updating the interior was also a necessity, as the equipment inside was now completely out of date. This took much longer and was a pain on its own, but Ciel also had to deal with the constant popping in and out of H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. operatives, inspecting the place and checking in on him and his butler. Ciel did not like this one bit.

Despite his return to England, the reinstated Watchdog was not happy. Having his old home made him feel better, but being under what seemed to be constant watch did not. This "H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G." organization was a massive thorn in his side, as well as a source of unrest. From their first meeting, the head of the organization seemed to know too much.

Arthur was a bit of an enigma to him. Every time he came over, he wanted to talk about nothing but whatever nonsense he was interested in at that time. Occasionally, he would pester Ciel with questions about his life in France before his return, asking him whether or not he had a girlfriend back in France like an annoying relative. He was overly friendly, but knew a scary amount of information about the bluenette. He knew important details from his human life, of which should have been lost with time. Then again, he claimed to be quite close to the Midford family.

"C'mon, a good looking lad like you without a girlfriend or two? I find that hard to believe." The Hellsing teased, reclining back in his chair with his butler looming over his shoulder, standing behind it.

"That wouldn't be wise at all. I'm a demon, you know. Friends and the like would get in the way." Scoffed the Watchdog. "Besides, I have absolutely no interest in that sort of nonsense."

"Boyfriends are fine as well." Arthur mused. "I'm open minded. You have my protection, so the police won't be a problem."

"Don't be disgusting!" Ciel snapped. "Never would I ever do something so revolting."

"Ah. My mistake, then. You just struck me as the sort." The Hellsing stated. "It's perfectly alright."

"How on earth do I ' _strike you as the sort'?_ Just what exactly do you take me for?"

"A stick in the mud, it seems." Arthur swiped one of the tea cakes off of the table in front of them and bit into it. Nonchalantly, he spoke as he ate. "It'd do you some good. If you weren't stuck in that form, I could get you a girl easy. Just a couple of pounds an hour."

"The only thing more disgusting than that is buying prostitutes." Scowled the lad. "Buying and selling human beings is a crime worthy of death."

"Big talk, coming from a demon."

"Not at all. I was a human myself, once, and I distinctly remember some of the children sold by my captors being used in that sense." Grimly spoke the Watchdog. "There is no difference, as far as I'm concerned. It's using the bodies of those who have nowhere to go, and no means to fight back. Even if some choose it as a path, there are many others who don't, and you don't know which is which. There's nothing innocent about that."

Silently, Arthur stared at the boy, ceasing his eating as he watched Ciel take a sip of his tea. "You must be great a parties."

"It isn't my fault that you don't think about how your actions affect others."

"My _job_ is to think about how my actions reflect others." Protested the Hellsing. "Every decision I make can affect countless lives, especially in a time of _war!"_

"Then think _harder_." Ciel retorted with all seriousness. His singular eye glared at the other man. "My duty was to protect the weak as well, but I couldn't do that. I was too wrapped up in my own selfish desires, and people died. Many, many people died and suffered as a direct result of my selfishness. Do you think I didn't believe that I was thinking hard about my actions? Do you think that because you save the lives of soldiers, that you playing a big man who exploits the bodies of those weaker than you is perfectly acceptable? That's very arrogant and self-centered of you."

"Oi, brat…" the other man's butler aggressively started, furrowing his brow and taking a step forward before the head of Hellsing raised an arm and stopped him.

"You've got some ideas, don't you, Phantomhive?" Arthur mused, a small smile gracing his face. "So you do have a moral compass. That's good. I have a feeling that we might get along."

"I don't." Ciel replied. "I have no respect for a man who supports an underground industry that directly relates to my own suffering. I have scars that will never heal caused by men like you. There is no need to supply if there isn't a demand. You're vulgar, and I do not wish to work with you, but like the others you don't seem to care about, I have no choice."

"You're stubborn."

"You're the one who hears about a crime against humanity from someone directly affected by it and take personal offense. Here's something for you to think about: Think about your reaction just now, and think about what exactly that says about your character."

Silence loomed overhead, suffocating those who sat in that room with a heavy smog. Even the Hellsing butler was put off by it. Ordinarily, his somewhat carefree master was agreeable, and played off being scolded for his actions with ease, but now, he wasn't merely being scolded. Ciel was directly calling his character into question, and the Watchdog had found what he had seen thus far completely and utterly deplorable. Setting down his cake and sighing heavily, Arthur ran a hand through his hair.

"That's heavy." He said, finally. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

"One's words don't matter. What matters is their actions." Ciel replied. "You can apologise all you like, but it will never be genuine as long as you continue to do the harmful action. Maybe consider finding a woman in a more respectable and genuine matter."

"I have all the time in the world for that, fortunately."

"You're human. No you don't."

"Are you always this negative?"

"Yes."

"Do you always argue and talk back to your boss like this?" retorted Arthur, crossing his arms.

"No. Usually, I'm a lot more polite when I disagree with them." Ciel stated, setting down his cup.

"Then why do you speak to me like this?"

"Because I just don't see you as my ' _boss_ ', I suppose. You're very young, don't you think?"

"I'm in my twenties! You're one to talk!" childishly complained the Hellsing. "You look like a kid! What's with that, anyway? Demons can take whatever form they want. Why that one?"

Pausing, Ciel looked down at the cup in front of him, trying to think of the words. This is how he looked fifty-two years ago, and he hasn't aged a day. When he thought about it, all sorts of emotions welled up inside of him, primarily fear and regret. Never did he want to stray from his human self, as he didn't want to lose himself. Most demons were weak and couldn't survive without devouring the personhood of humans. Ciel did not want to join them. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed his fingers along the rim of the teacup and played with the handle before picking it up again and taking another sip.

"Because reasons." He answered a matter-of-factly.

 _"'Reasons'?"_ Arthur echoed. "What kind of _'reasons'?"_

"The kind that aren't any of your business."

"Too personal?"

"Obviously."

"You're not very friendly, are you?"

"You're expecting a demon to be _'friendly'?"_ inquired the Phantomhive, arching an eyebrow.

"Working with you is going to be difficult, isn't it?" asked the Hellsing in return. "I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I'm not sure what I'm going to do with you…"

"Give me missions to carry out, and then allow me to do so." Bluntly answered the Watchdog. "I'm not sure what else there is."

"Blimey… You're like a smaller Sir Islands, only worse…"

"Good. You obviously needs someone to keep you in control."

"That's what I'm supposed to be doing with you…"

Leaning his elbow on the armrest and placing his chin in his palm, Ciel patronizingly looked to Arthur. For a moment, he closed his eye and shook his head lightly before resuming his attention.

"Work on yourself, first." The Watchdog said. "No one will ever respect you, no matter how ' _secretly brilliant'_ you believe yourself to be. I don't care if you're stressed from the war. The stress is only going to get worse from here on out, but that's no excuse for you to behave like a monster."

"And what about you?" asked the man. "You've done some nasty deeds in your lifetime as well."

Leaning back again, the bluenette huffed and then let out a sigh. "At least I regret it. I don't want to become that again. If I do, I might not come back again…"


End file.
